


worst type of best possible

by ethyxx



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Soft Boys, hand holding, persona 5 royal spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28327992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ethyxx/pseuds/ethyxx
Summary: Maruki takes a cautious step back and looks over at Akira, his expression lighting up. Akira thinks that he's maybe come up with some kind of plan to calm Akechi down, as if that's even a possibility. "Akira and I spoke a great deal about you and the way he feels about you…"Akira thinks that Maruki's plan is fucking awful.Akira asks Akechi to be his fake boyfriend to prove a point.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 8
Kudos: 226





	worst type of best possible

Akira Kurusu is slowly coming to terms with the fact that nothing in his life is ever going to be straight forward. He's spent the past two weeks trying to convince himself that nothing's wrong other than the twisted idea of an ideal life that Maruki's attempted to force onto everyone, but deep down he knows that there has to be something more. He's spent the past sixteen near sleepless nights wondering if he should even be here right now, or if his rightful place is rotting away in the backroom of a juvenile detention centre in the middle of nowhere alongside the rest of Tokyo's Most Wanted Children.

The only thing that he knows for sure at this point is that he has no idea what's actually going on or how things have ended up the way that they have. It's funny how life can make you feel like killing a god isn't good enough sometimes.

"Yoshizawa-san!"

Akira's thoughts are interrupted when Haru's shriek of concern echoes throughout the auditorium's sterile white walls. At least half a dozen bodies leap forward in a desperate attempt to grab Sumire before her body can come into contact with the solid floor and somehow make things worse than they already are.

"Got her!" Ryuji yells with a thumb thrown in the air. He gently lays her down on the ground and hovers his head over her face, two fingers tracing the length of her neck in desperate search of a pulse. "She's out cold, but she's still breathin'! I'm pretty sure she's gonna be alright!"

Akira already knew that she was going to be okay. Sure, they know now that Maruki's kind of a huge ass, but Akira's pretty confident that he'd never do anything to purposely hurt her—not physically anyway. He thinks. He hopes.

The important thing in all of this is that Sumire's wellbeing is enough to put the group somewhat at ease. Akira can't deny that he feels some of the tension lift from his shoulders when the team's remaining members let out a collective sigh of relief between them. 

Ryuji shrugs his jacket from his shoulders and awkwardly rolls it into something that may possibly resemble some kind of makeshift pillow that he eventually slides under Sumire's head and neck. Akira's pretty sure that laying on a cold floor with a pillow made from coarse leather and rigid metal plates can't be the most comfortable position to be in, especially in Sumire's current state. Still, Ryuji's heart is in the right place, and that's all that matters.

It's almost enough to make him forget that whatever mess they've found themselves in right now is crumbling around them with every passing minute. That is until Maruki slides into his peripheral vision on his hands and knees, a shell of the man with the grandiose plan who was sure he had the answers to everything. All things considered, Akira thinks Maruki's handling having his flawless plan picked apart piece by piece by a group of his former students, their weird friends, an idol(?) and their anthropomorphic cat mascot pretty well. 

"I truly can't believe this is happening right now. You're telling me that every last one of you willingly threw away what could be your one and only chance at true happiness just to come here to try and prove me wrong? To try and stop…" Maruki's voice trails off until it's nothing more than a whimper and a few pathetic hiccups. "I didn't even consider that this could be a possibility. All of my research…"

As much as he retrospectively hates himself for it, Akira gets it. He gets that Maruki was only staff at Shujin for the better part of seven months so he shouldn't care as much as he does. He also gets how bad this whole thing looks to everyone else considering that it's starting to feel more and more like he knows nothing about this guy. However, none of that changes the fact that he knows how much work that Maruki put into that research, regardless of whether or not his intentions were good. How much work would the average man even have to put into creating what may or may not be an alternative universe anyway?

What Akira can't understand is why Maruki cares enough about anyone or anything to even bother in the first place.

Ryuji clears his throat as he gets back onto his feet and backs away from Sumire, lifting a hand to scratch the back of his neck—a nervous twitch that Akira's become all too familiar with. "Uhh… I'm sure this is all really cool or whatever, and I know that there are probably some more super important issues that are goin' on right now—" he pauses, and everyone in the room lowers their gaze towards Sumire as she lets out a pitiful groan, her head lolling over onto its side, the tiniest hint of tongue peeking out from between pale pink lips "—but can someone please tell me what the hell's goin' on here?! What's Maruki even doin' in a place like this? I thought we were s'posed to be done with all this shit."

As the sound of heels clacking against the over-polished tile floor approaches from the back of the room, Akira realises that fighting back the urge to roll his eyes in response is the hardest thing he's had to do all day. It's infuriating how much you can hate a person, their attitude, and all of the shitty decisions they make time and time again whilst subconsciously worshipping them and the ground they walk on.

"I thought even you would have figured that out before now, Sakamoto," Akechi says, not bothering to look at Ryuji as he replies. He continues to inch towards Maruki, weaving throughout the other members of the group as he goes. Akira tries his best to not react in response to the tattered cape that brushes his arm in passing, but he's reasonably sure that Futaba's probably sniggering behind her hand somewhere at the back of the room. "This place is a palace, and the reason he's here is because it's  _ his _ palace. Everything you see here, the false reality you've been living in for the past week, the deceased coming back to life—all of it is his doing. Isn't that right, Maruki-san?"

Maruki lets out a defeated sigh and runs a hand through his slicked-back hair, whilst his other hand clenches into a fist in his lap. It's clear that he's struggling to keep his composure. For all Akira knows, he could be moments away from a total meltdown. "All I ever wanted to achieve with my research was to obtain the ability to grant everyone's wishes and give you all the lives that you truly deserve. I can assure you all that all of this is simply one big misunderstanding. Haven't you all been through enough already?"

"What's that even supposed to mean, Doc?" Ryuji asks. "Why don't you do us all a favour and cut the bullshit. You ain't the school counsellor anymore, so stop treatin' us like we're a bunch of babies. I don't remember any of us asking for anything like whatever the hell this is. What does any of this even me—"

Maruki doesn't give Ryuji the opportunity to finish. He picks himself up from the ground and slowly begins to move forward, lessening the distance between himself and Akechi but stopping himself before he gets too close. He holds his palms out in front of himself and bows his head forward in what Akira can only interpret as a show of submission. He considers the possibility of it being some kind of twisted apology for a brief minute, but then again, it feels like the time for 'I'm sorry, and I promise it won't ever happen again' has probably long passed.

He's not really sure why he feels the need to step forward, but Akira does it anyway. Maybe he's worried about the look on Akechi's face and how he's relatively sure that he's about half a second away from wrapping the keen digits of his gauntlets around Maruki's neck that just so happens to look incredibly vulnerable all of a sudden. Maybe he's still letting unrequited feelings get the better of him, even after playing the role of Akechi's next potential murder victim more than once.

Akira places a clammy hand onto Akechi's shoulder and watches with a smile as he shrugs it off almost instantly. Everything is exactly as it should be. They're both fine. This is fine.

"None of that matters anymore. I'm struggling to come to terms with how you all managed to defy this reality that I've created." Though his words say otherwise, Maruki's tone is as kind and warm as always; soft-spoken, but laced with an edge of something entirely different and new, something Akira can't quite put his finger on. Not yet, anyway. It's almost like he's back to his usual self, but he could still blow at any minute, ready to take anyone willing to get in his way down with him. "Anyway, I do have a rough understanding of your procedure with these kinds of things. You're all probably here because you want to change my heart, am I correct? While that may be the case, I don't think we've reached a point where we can say that our discussions are over quite yet. While I do believe that there is still plenty for us to talk about, I also think that Yoshizawa should be your main concern at the mo—"

Maruki's sudden change in mood is jarring, but at least Akira doesn't have to think about it for too long. Akechi's gone before he even really has the time to register what's happening, grasping the lapel on either side of Maruki's jacket in each hand. "Don't even think about running," Akechi snarls. "They may not be wise to your act just yet, but I can see right through you, Doctor. I've dealt with the likes of you before."

His response is minimal, almost non-existent. Maruki doesn't so much as flinch when Akechi begins to violently thrust his body back and forth, throwing him to the floor and watching him slide across the surface when he realises he's not going to get anything close to the reaction he had been looking for. 

"If you want to fight me now, then we can fight, but I don't think that's what anyone here really wants at the moment," Maruki says as he gets back onto his feet once again and brushes fictitious dust from his pants and shoulders.

He knows that there's no way that this is going to end well, but at least this time Akira's somewhat prepared. He grabs Akechi's arm before he can jump at the opportunity to go in for round two—not that it stops him trying. He continues to pull forward regardless of Akira's best efforts, reaching out with his free hand, desperately stretching towards whatever part of Maruki he can get his clawed fingers on.

"No one can tell me what I do and don't want. Not Kurusu, not Shido and most definitely not you. Do you understand me? Don't you dare act like you know anything about me," Akechi snaps, unrelenting in his efforts to get out of Akira's hold. "I'm not Kurusu. I'm not about to let a piece of shit like you pretend to think you care about someone like me when you don't even know the kind of person I am."

He thinks that he should probably be upset that Akechi thinks so little of him, but the sad thing is that Akira knows that he's probably right. He let anyone in: Maruki, Akechi, pretty much anyone in the city that gave him a chance or the attention that he'd been craving for so long. He'd been an open book from day one. Maybe if he'd have kept his mouth shut and been as apprehensive of Maruki as Ryuji and Ann had been from the start, no one would be in this mess right now.

"That's not the case, Akechi-kun." Maruki takes a cautious step back and looks over at Akira, his expression lighting up. Akira thinks that he's maybe come up with some kind of plan to calm Akechi down, as if that's even a possibility. "Akira and I spoke a great deal about you and the way he feels about you…"

Akira thinks that Maruki's plan is fucking awful. It's one of the worst things he's ever heard, but luckily for him, he can't hear anything anymore over the sound of blood roaring in his ears. When the blurred vision finally kicks in, he wonders if it's possible to blackout or maybe even die (dying sounds pretty good right now) while standing up. Sure, he's spent the past few months being painfully obvious about his attraction towards Akechi, but that doesn't mean that he's ready for the school counsellor to lay out all the dirty details of his pathetic crush on a platter. Maybe Maruki's willingness to listen to all of the sordid details of his one-sided fantasies should have been the first warning sign that something was wrong, but Akira clearly missed it. Even with all of the flashing neon signs and sirens that went along with it, he didn't suspect a thing.

For the most part, he's come to terms with the fact that Goro Akechi is an oblivious idiot with no real understanding of human emotion, the wellbeing of his peers, and how either of those things work. As unfortunate as it sounds, it's probably part of what makes him attractive in the first place. Akira understands that he really needs to just get over whatever this even is.

But then again, maybe he doesn't. Not yet.

His senses eventually come back to him an undetermined amount of time later, and when they do, everyone's looking at him expectantly for some reason he isn't quite sure of. He doesn't really know how long he spaced out for, but now that he's back, it feels like he's in one of those old fashioned western cartoons and there's a comically large lightbulb glowing somewhere over his head. He's somehow managed to come up with a plan whilst in a state of semi-consciousness, a plan that he's nowhere near ready to try and decipher, but a plan that he’s going to pursue regardless.

Using every ounce of strength left in his body (because let's not forget that every single person in this room got their ass kicked within the last hour), Akira pulls Akechi backwards until their bodies are pressed together from their hips to their shoulders. 

He didn't think about the skintight one-piece suit. He should have thought about the skintight one-piece suit. He can't stop thinking about the skintight one-piece suit.

He subconsciously clears his throat in a bid to remind himself that he should probably say something. "I'm— Uh… We aren't going to listen to anything else you have to say, Maruki-san. This new reality doesn't mean anything to us," he says, loosening his grip on Akechi's shoulders and letting one of his arms fall around his slender waist, praying that he won't take this as an opportunity to run. "I already have everything I want. We both do."

Akira's okay with the sudden wave of nausea that crashes over him because if the expression on his face is any kind of tell, Akechi feels the same way. Everything seems to be going better than Akira had expected until Akechi begins to scratch at his arms until he gives in and lets him go. 

"What do you think you're doing? Don't you ever put your filthy paws on me like that again or I swear I'll—"

Akira silently pleads in Akechi's general direction with an expression that he hopes will scream, 'please let someone else take the lead, just this once'. "Look, I know you said no to public displays of affection, but I took a shot because I thought it would be kind of romantic. Maruki may have done a lot for everyone else to give them their ideal world, or whatever this is, but we can't let him think that he brought us together, right? This was all us, Akechi. Right?"

Akira holds out a hand in offering, praying that Akechi will play along and take it. Akechi mumbles something indecipherable under his breath in response, but Akira still hears him loud and clear. He eventually reaches out an arm and begrudgingly takes Akira's hand, walking forward to stand at his side. It almost feels like the real deal when Akechi leans against him and brushes his hair away from his ear, closing the distance between them to whisper sweet nothings in his ear.

"Next time you try and pull a stunt like this I'll rip your fu—"

The room's attention switches to Sumire as she lets out a pained groan from her spot on the floor. Akira makes a mental note to thank his saviour once she's feeling up to it.

And then with a flash of light, Maruki's gone, leaving behind nothing but a tinny message played over a shoddy tannoy system. Akechi takes this as his cue to leave, dropping Akira's hand and walking towards the exit without a word.

February 3rd. 

He somehow has to figure all of this out by the 3rd.

* * *

Akira eventually makes it out of Maruki's palace in one piece with the rest of the Phantom Thieves bringing up the rear until they're back in the cold January air that continuously cuts through Odaiba. Akira knows he shouldn't complain; everyone's okay, and they've even managed to make it out before the snow got a chance to start up again. He really should learn to take what he can get instead on focusing on the bad and everything else that he can't have.

Even though he's not entirely sure that he even really knows what's going on, Akira attempts to explain the situation to the rest of the group. He doesn't doubt that his story's messy, and he's probably missed something important somewhere down the line, but he can't tell them what he doesn't know himself.

"Sorry to interrupt, but would you mind if I said a few things?"

He can't deny that he's disappointed to see everyone else take a step back when Akechi approaches. Akira's aware of the fact that Akechi has made some less than ideal life choices, some of which having a significant impact on specific individuals within the team, but what he really wants to know is what happened to the supposed compassion that everyone managed to pull from thin air the second they thought he was dead?

"You all need to learn to stop being so touchy about everything," Akechi says, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket. "If I had an issue with any of you or the group in its entirety, then I would have taken care of things a long time ago. I've put everything that happened between us behind me, and I would like to think that all of you could at least attempt to do the same for me."

It feels like there's an important decision to be made here. Suppose Akira's really going to go along with this whole cringy fake dating trope. In that case, he's got two real options: he could tell everyone here the details of the plan that he hasn't even figured out the logistics of himself, or he could go for the authentic, all-in experience, potentially ruining a number of friendships in the process while also probably adding a few marks to the 'Times Akechi has tried to kill Akira' tally.

He takes a step forward and wraps an apprehensive arm around Akechi's midsection, sliding a hand into his pocket where he crosses his fingers and prays for a miracle. "Akechi's not the enemy here."

"No offence, Akira, but of course you're going to say that. Considering that the two of you are… seeing one another," Makoto says, refusing to meet Akechi’s gaze as she picks at her fingernails. "Forgive me for saying this, but how can we be sure that your intentions are good and that you aren't just using him, Akechi? I apologise if that's not the case, but you have to understand my way of thinking, especially if we take the colourful past between the two of you into account."

"It's nice to see that you still think so little of me, Niijima. Well then, I'm sorry to inform you that I am actually capable of caring about someone. That being said, what happens between Kurusu and I is none of your business," Akechi responds, shoving his hand into his pocket alongside Akira's and pinching the skin on the back of his hand. "I know you all still see me as some kind of monster, but surely our main concern here should be Maruki. We're dealing with a man who has the ability to change the very fabric of reality. I believe that we should join forces in order to take him down together, seeing as we're dealing with an unpredictable and, although I am loath to admit, powerful foe. We all have the same end goal here."

It's not necessarily what Akira had expected, but he'll take it. Anything that doesn't result in an instant rejection has to be taken as a positive in these kinds of situations. If he's going to go by those standards, then everything seems to be going exceptionally well.

"Hey! I think Yoshizawa's wakin' up!"

Everyone turns to look at Ryuji as Sumire groans against his neck and slowly dismounts from his back. 

"It seems that there are more pressing matters for your little group to be dealing with at the moment. By all means, take some time to consider what we've just discussed, but please remember to keep our deadline in mind. I'll be going now." Akechi nods, pulling away from Akira as he makes a move towards the train station. "Akira, are you coming home with me tonight?"

Akira wonders how he's supposed to go home with Akechi when he's about to die right here in the middle of the street. He hopes Futaba was recording that somehow, maybe through a bug in his phone or via some super secret hidden camera somewhere. He doesn't care how she gets it, but he needs to hear that again. 

And again.

And maybe one more time after that for good measure.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course," Akira says. "Futaba, would you mind telling Soji—"

"You want me to tell Sojiro that you've run away with Prince Charming and now you're going back to his apartment to do a whole bunch of different gross things with him that I'll explain to Sojiro in great detail and it'll be  _ so _ traumatic for him that he'll end up scarred for life? Sure thing." Futaba laughs and raises her right hand, pressing it against her forehead in salute. "Nah, I'll tell him that you're hanging out with Yusuke or something. Is that cool?" 

Akira nods and puts an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in for a hug. When he turns around, Akechi already has an arm outstretched in his direction, hand open and waiting. He places his palm against warm, worn leather and weaves their fingers together. It feels like the most natural thing he's ever experienced, like they've done this a million times before and it's not just something that Akira pulled from nowhere earlier in the afternoon.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do, Kurusu."

* * *

He doesn't realise it until he's stood outside of Akechi's apartment building, but Akira's been here a few times before. He'd never made it inside, but there were a few late Summer evenings of darts and billiards that would often end in offers of walking Akechi home, even though they both knew that they lived on opposite sides of the city. 

Akira has to laugh. His efforts had been painfully obvious from the start. It was just a shame that Akechi was cruel enough to allow him to get his hopes up, or maybe he really was that oblivious.

Akechi still living here after everything was a little bit of a surprise though.

"I'm not used to having any company over, and it's not something that I intend to make a habit of, so please don't expect any kind of special treatment. Though, I suppose I should offer you a drink or something," Akechi says as he swings open a cupboard door. Akira can tell that he doesn't want him to see what's inside, but it's too late, the empty shelves were pretty difficult to ignore. "Water or tea?"

"No, thanks."

Akira guesses that that was the wrong answer when Akechi barks out a laugh. "Let me get this straight. You think that there's no problem in lying to the majority of your social circle, telling them that the two of us are involved in relations. Yet, you won't even accept basic hospitality from the man you call your spurious partner?" Akechi cocks an eyebrow and turns back to the empty cupboard. "I'll ask you once more: water or tea?"

"Tea sounds good."

"That's what I thought. Now, can you go and sit down or something? Your existence is making me uncomfortable."

The interior of Akechi's apartment is everything Akira expected it would be. There isn't much in the way of furniture, or anything really. Other than a couple of pairs of shoes occupying the rack by the door, it's like something straight out of a catalogue, a showhome that no one's ever really meant to live in. 

Akira perches on the edge of a plush black leather sofa that takes up most of the open plan living space and scans the room in search for something more, anything with a trace of personality or any signs of life. The closest things he can find are a pile of overdue bills addressed to one Masayoshi Shido and a collection of overlapping rings left from a countless number of cups of coffee ingrained into the sleek, white coffee table.

"Water."

Akira curses under his breath when Akechi all but slams an overflowing glass of water in front of him, liquid sloshing over the rim to join the rest of the mess on the surface below.

"What happened to the tea?"

Akechi smirks as he slumps into the vacant space next to Akira. "Didn't feel like boiling the kettle."

At least he's honest. Akira brings the glass to his lips and takes a sip of lukewarm tap water.

"Okay, so are you ready to let me know what your problem is and why you thought it was okay to drag me into the mess you created back there?"

Akira tilts his head to the side like a confused puppy, desperately trying to get a grasp on Akechi's expression for some kind of understanding of what type of response he may be looking for. "What makes you think that I have a problem?"

"I don't know, Kurusu. It could be the fact that you haven't really said anything of substance to me since we left your friends back in Odaiba," Akechi says. "Or perhaps it's something to do with this whole marriage role-play routine you decided to spring on me with absolutely no warning. It's rather funny, actually. I don't know why I'm even surprised by any of your actions at this point because nothing is ever straightforward when you're involved. I often find myself wondering if you have any shame…"

"I don't have a problem. I am a little worried about some stuff, and I do think that I have some concerns about some aspects of my one hundred percent genuine boyfriend's life."

"In your dreams." Akechi sighs and leans forward, pressing his fingers against his closed eyes. "You still haven't answered my question, though. You're apparently worried and concerned, but you still won't tell me anything. Go ahead. I'm all ears."

How do you tell your recently emancipated fake boyfriend that you don't think you're ready to talk about the stupid plan you've gotten him involved in against his will because all you can think about is how much his living space still reeks of the father he's spent the past several years of his life trying to kill?

"Answer me."

"It's no big deal. I guess I wasn't expecting you to still be living here after everything that's happened," Akira eventually admits.

"Why wouldn't I live here? Regardless of what happened between Shido and I, this is still my home. It's not like he's around to take it away from me," Akechi responds, drumming his fingers across his knee. "Not that it's any of your business, but it's not like I'm here by choice. Believe me, if I had somewhere else to go, then I would have left here long before now."

"You could always move into the attic with me." Akira raises his eyebrows and holds out his hands, pausing in anticipation for a laugh he never receives. "Why don't you leave then? What is it that's keeping you here?"

Akechi laughs at that and takes a sip from a can of iced coffee that Akira was never offered. "Are you really that dense? Clearly, Miracle-senpai didn't have me in mind when he was creating his idea of paradise because I'm still stuck in this shithole waiting for the keys to Barbie's Dreamhouse complete with a stunning view of Tokyo Bay. I don't have any money. I have nowhere else to go, Kurusu."

They fall into yet another awkward silence, Akira watching on as Akechi traces a seemingly permanently gloved finger around the rim of his can. He wonders if being in a real relationship with Akechi would still be like this or if there would be something more than just quiet and a constant stream of misunderstandings. Would getting a read on Akechi ever get any easier or would things always be this way, with Akechi knowing too much and Akira feeling like he'll never know enough.

The lack of anything is almost too much to bear when Akechi clears his throat. "Now that we've cleared that up, are you planning on telling me what your big plan is?" he asks, leaning back into the couch, crossing one leg over the other. "I can't begin to fathom what your gameplan is here, but in case you haven't already guessed as much, I'm not overly impressed with the idea. I'm actually rather offended that you think that you can just pull me into one of your bullshit schemes without getting my consent, or even bringing it up to me in passing beforehand."

And so, as requested, Akira explains the plan to Akechi. Well, he tries to.

"That is  _ the _ most ridiculous thing I have ever heard in my entire life. Are you listening to yourself? Do you hear how stupid this all sounds? Do you really think that Maruki will fall for any of this?" Akechi grabs a fistful of his own hair and squeezes, blowing a long, drawn-out breath from between his lips. Akira reaches a hand out and forces Akechi to loosen his grip, bringing his hand down to rest on his lap once again—a silent request for him to stop. "Okay. Let's scrap all of that. Kurusu, do you truly believe that Maruki even cares? What good do you think the two of us being in a relationship would do for the overall plan in the grand scheme of things?"

Akira shrugs. He's not about to pretend that he knows why he made the decision to go through with a plan he made up on the spot in approximately ten seconds, but he knows that it felt like the right thing to do at the time.

"I don't know. I think some part of me thought that it might be a good idea to make Maruki think that people could find true happiness or whatever it is he's going for on their own, without his idea of a perfect reality."

"Your idea of true happiness—" Akechi presses his left palm to his chest, fingers splayed over his heart "—is a romantic relationship with yours truly? And here I thought Akira Kurusu had some standards…"

Killing a god suddenly feels like the biggest mistake Akira's ever made. He should have left Shibuya to rot and hung out in the Velvet Room forever. Anything sounds better than whatever's happening right now.

"It's not—"

"Please. Spare me the details. I feel like I could give you the entire day to try and explain this little scheme of yours, but I'm unsure if I'll ever be able to understand," Akechi says, sounding more and more exhausted with every word. "There is one thing I really would like to know though, and I actually do think you may be able to answer this one: why would you involve your friends in the lie? As far as I'm concerned, we're all on the same page, so why wouldn't you clue them in on what it is that's going on?"

"I guess I thought that if we could make them believe it, then Maruki would for sure fall for it too."

"That is a terrible argument. Your friends are all idiots."

He hates to admit it, but Akechi's maybe kind of right. Akira's not about to call any of the other members of the Phantom Thieves an idiot because simply put, they're really not. He can't deny that they can all be a little blind about some stuff from time to time, but he knows that he would never have made it through the past few months without their support.

"They have their moments, but they're not idiots." Akira turns to look at Akechi and rests a hand on his shoulder. "So… I don't want to pressure you into anything but, do you want to be my fake boyfriend or not? You haven't given me an answer yet, so I'm starting to think that you were maybe telling the truth when you said you hated me that one time."

Akechi uses his thumb and an index finger to remove Akira's hand from his shoulder, lifting it off like it's the most repulsive thing he's ever come into contact with. "I can't believe I'm even considering this. I'm willingly going to spend the next three weeks at your disposal all to prove a point to your former school counsellor. A point that I highly doubt he's even going to pick up on."

"Sounds about right."

The leather of the couch creaks as Akechi leaves and walks towards a door at the back of his apartment. He comes back with a blanket in one hand and a pillow under his arm. 

"If you plan on sleeping here then we have to have put some ground rules in place." Akechi throws the pillow at Akira's face with no warning. "You sleep on the couch. The restroom is over there. You can use the shampoo and the soap once, but if you plan on staying here, I fully expect you to purchase your own—I'm not your mother, and I will break your fingers if you touch any of my products without consent. Do not enter my room. Do not enter the space surrounding my room. Do not go through any of the storage spaces or cupboards. Do not touch the computer or my cell phone."

"Anything else?"

"No, I think that covers just about everything. Do you have any questions?"

"Am I allowed to breathe?"

"For now, yes." Akechi turns back towards his room with a smirk on his lips. He reaches the door of his bedroom and presses a finger against the light switch, looking over his shoulder as the living room plunges into darkness. "Sleep well, Kurusu."

* * *

Akira's trying his best to be subtle about it, but the truth of the matter is that he hasn't been able to take his eyes off of Akechi for the duration of their impromptu meeting with Lavenza. She had dropped in when Akira had been on his way to English class after lunch, but they had both agreed that it would probably be best to have this conversation with the rest of the group members present. Looking back, that feels like a pretty good decision on his part because chances are that at least one of the people here has to be listening to what she's actually talking about.

He just doesn't get it though. Maybe it's the way that Akechi's presenting himself to the rest of the group, seamlessly slipping back into their team dynamic with what seems like minimal effort. Maybe it's the hint of collarbone that Akira can see peeking out from underneath his borrowed Shujin gym uniform—truly a mystery for the ages.

He's pretty sure that he still managed to pick up most of the important stuff though: turns out Maruki's been fucking up the Metaverse with a persona they had no idea he had and, more importantly, Akechi's been accepted back into the gang with minimal fuss and only one threat.

They're all a little overwhelmed by the time Lavenza's finished with her debrief, so they make the unanimous decision to wrap things up for the day. Akira's aware that there's a giant deadline hanging over everyone's head, but the last thing he needs is a burnt-out team before they've even thought about stepping foot back into Maruki's palace. Everyone agrees to a follow-up meeting in LeBlanc after school the next day for a run through of the information they've managed to pull together thus far.

Before they break up for the day, Akira decides to split cash between everyone in the group to let them go and buy their own supplies and weapons on the off chance that they find the time to go to the Metaverse following tomorrow's meeting. He is so invested in what he's doing for once that he almost misses Akechi gathering his things and heading towards the door on the opposite side of the room.

"Hey! Akechi!" Akira yells, hurriedly shovelling what's left of their budget back into his bag in a desperate bid to catch up. "Wait up. I'm just wrapping things up here. There's plenty of cash left over for you to get some stuff too. I wasn't sure if you needed anything, though. It seems like you've got pretty much everything covered."

"Kur-Akira," Akechi says, reaching out and placing a palm against Akira's chest before he can get any closer. Akira wonders if he can feel his heart hammering against his ribs through three layers of clothes. "I was actually going to ask if you wouldn't mind going home and spending the night at the cafe. It's not that I haven't been enjoying your company or anything like that. I just think it would be a good opportunity for the two of us to spend some time apart to catch up on our own things, don't you?"

It turns out fake relationship rejection hurts just as much as the real thing. It's funny because it's not like Akira has ever really experienced the real thing to be able to make any kind of accurate comparisons, but he's pretty sure regardless. Point is: life sucks and Akira is a giant baby who is still in way over his head in this self-inflicted mess.

"You're probably right. That sounds like a good idea."

He thinks it's a terrible idea.

"I've got a lot of things to catch up on."

He doesn't.

"People to see and places to go."

He's going to go back to the attic to spend his night alone. If he ends up crying in bed at 6 pm after a nutritionally balanced dinner of instant cup ramen, then it's completely unrelated to what's happening right now.

Akechi gives him a look that says that he, probably the most unobservant man to ever walk on the face of the earth, can see right through him. "Uh-huh…" he says wearily. "I'm glad that you understand. Have a good night, Akira."

And just like that, Akira Kurusu is a single man once again. He's a bachelor with all of the freedom that a man could ever want, so why was he absolutely fucking miserable? As far as Akira's concerned, Goro Akechi is one of the worst people he has ever, and probably will ever meet in his entire life, so why can't he get him out of his head? Why is he still letting himself get strung up over some idiotic plan that was destined to fail from the start?

"That's rough, dude," Ryuji says, snapping Akira from his thoughts when he slings an arm over his shoulders. "Looks like someone's sleepin' on the couch tonight…"

How can he be downgraded to the couch when he's been sleeping on the couch the entire time? Now he's sleeping on the floor at Akechi's feet or maybe in one of the trash cans behind his apartment building.

* * *

The coffee in Akira's mug is stone cold by the time the last person (Yusuke, of course) filters in through LeBlanc's entrance, dark brown liquid sloshing against the inner walls of his cup as he passes it back and forth between his hands. This should be a pre-palace infiltration meeting just like any other, but today feels different. He needs to stop overthinking everything.

"And with my arrival, it looks like everyone's finally here, so now seems like a good time to begin."

They break the ice in the same way they always do, talking about things that they've been doing outside of the Metaverse whilst they wait for everyone's drinks to brew. For the most part, it seems like the meeting follows the standard procedure following that. Akira's crammed into a booth alongside Makoto, Ryuji, and Yusuke, all of them watching as Morgana struggles to unravel their copy of the map for the palace's first area. Haru and Akechi are both sitting on barstools, using their higher vantage point to identify points and places of interest that everyone else might miss under a paw or tail. 

Akira doesn't want to be the person who lets his own issues impact the group dynamic and relationships, but Ann and Futaba are getting on his last nerve. They've been going over the plan and what little evidence they have for the best part of an hour when the constant whispers and giggling start to feel like too much.

"Sorry to interrupt," Akechi says, waving a hand in front of him as he speaks to ensure that he gets everyone's attention. "I was just wondering if the incessant chatter and laughing was beginning to bother anyone else or if it was just me. Takamaki? Sakura? I'm unsure you both understand what exactly we have at stake here, so would you mind keeping it down? Please."

"Haha… Sorry about that. I was just joking around with Futaba. We—" Ann's response is cut short with an elbow to the ribs, courtesy of Futaba "—sorry, _ I _ was just saying that I always think it's kind of weird when two people who are clearly really,  _ really _ into each other try and sit on opposite sides of the room or whatever just to try and prove that they're not always all over one another or totally head over heels in love. It's pretty pointless though, Akira hasn't been able to take his eyes off of you since you got here."

Akechi's not going to like that one. Akira didn't miss the way that his eyebrow began to twitch the instant she started talking. Also, Ann Takamaki is a liar. Akira has been so busy doing a tonne of other really important things; he hasn't had the time to look at Akechi once since he got here. He doesn't even want to look at Akechi right now. Next thing you know, she'll be saying that she caught him looking incredibly invested in the greasy mark that Akechi's chapstick made on the rim of his coffee mug. Propaganda.

"Weird? Is that why there's a significant distance between Niijima and Okumura this evening, or is that purely happenstance?"

"Yeah right, dude!" Ryuji shouts, slamming a hand against Akechi's back with enough force to almost send him flying from his stool. "On what planet would Makoto and Haru even think about hookin' up?"

Judging by the expression of sheer terror that covers Makoto's entire face, Akira's relatively sure that it's the planet they're on right now. Haru seems to be taking it in her stride, though. Good for them.

"Ah—anyway!" Ann claps her hands in an attempt to get all eyes back on her. "Weird was probably the wrong word, but I can't really describe it. I just think the two of you are super cute."

"I understand that I should probably appreciate the sentiment, but I would like to remind you, and everyone else here for that matter, that my relationship with Kurusu is not your concern. However, I would appreciate it if you could all keep your comments to yourselves, regardless of how harmless you may think they are," Akechi says, standing up from his spot at the bar and winding his scarf back around his neck. "Going back to the matter at hand, I think that our discussions had more or less reached their climax anyway. Shall we get going?"

* * *

It doesn't take long for them to figure out that the whole Maruki problem is much more than just a palace. 

They spent two nights learning more about Maruki and struggling against shadows with no weaknesses only to find out that they've barely scratched the surface of his palace. He's also somehow managed to create an entirely new area of Mementos since they were last there on Christmas Eve. Then comes three straight nights of Mementos exploration that doesn't feel any more manageable even with all of the additional buffs courtesy of Jose and two extra bodies on the team. But it's the sixth consecutive night in the Metaverse and their first trip back to Maruki's palace when Akechi finally starts to lose it.

Akira winces at the sound of Akechi's front door slamming against the wall as he barges inside his apartment. Akira knows he's upset and he's probably feeling exhausted on top of all of that. Honestly, he's starting to let it get to him too, but it's not like the notorious leader of the Phantom Thieves is allowed to show any kind of emotional struggles or signs of weakness.

He follows Akechi through to the kitchen and watches as he turns on the faucet and slashes cold water onto his face. "Are you okay?" he asks, grabbing a clean dish towel from the rack and holding it out in Akechi's direction. "Things were pretty rough in there today."

"Believe it or not, the palace and Mementos isn't what's bothering me at the moment," Akechi says as he accepts the towel. He dries the water from his face but misses the excess water that ended up in his hair, several tiny droplets temporarily staining the tan fabric of his jacket. "I can handle a few shadows and Maruki sob stories. What I can't take is the seemingly endless volley of jibes from the people you call your friends. Don't they ever get bored? If this is how they react to us being in a fake relationship, then I would hate to imagine them if we were actually a couple."

Akira laughs as he begins to pull his jacket off. "I think they're just looking for ways to keep their spirits up. Don't let them bother you—they'll get bored soon."

"I wish you weren't quite so blasé about it. The majority of laughs today were at your expense, after all." Akechi says. "Unless, of course, you're fine with Sakura saying that you've spent the majority of our recent expeditions staring at my ass."

How dare Futaba, the member of their team responsible for monitoring everyone's every movement within the metaverse, lie about something like that. 

"Now what's so funny?" asks Akechi.

He's not about to tell Akechi that he's laughing to cover up the fact that he can't believe that Futaba would throw him under the bus like that and he's approximately two seconds away from crying or having a breakdown or maybe even both.

He scans the room and locks eyes with the coffee syphon that's packed away in the corner. "You have at least 300,000 yen worth of coffee supplies, but I've never seen you drink anything besides canned coffee since I got here." Akira runs a hand across one of the bags of ground coffee on Akechi's counter and isn't surprised when his fingers come back in a thick coat of dust. He doubts these would even be palatable at this point. "If you don't use it because you don't know what you're doing then I could make us some coffee. If you wanted me to, I mean."

Akechi's fingers curl around the edge of the countertop, the tips of his fingers glowing white against the marble surface. "You think you're better than me because you know how to make a slightly better than average cup of coffee?" he asks. "In case you hadn't noticed, we are in a private setting. I'd rather you didn't play the role of the doting boyfriend whilst we're in my apartment."

"Maybe I just want to brew some coffee for my f—"

"Could you stop? It's getting rather stale, and I imagine that Maruki's probably got better things to be doing right now than checking in on what we're doing in my apartment."

“I was going to say friend, but okay.”

Akechi looks confused, like the idea of someone making someone for him for the sake of it is the most foreign concept he’s ever heard.  “Why would you bother ?”

Akira shrugs and opens one of the coffee bags. It smells okay so he can only hope for the best. “Do you want a coffee or not?” Akira asks. “You’ve got all the stuff here and I know how to use it so I’d be a shame to let it go to waste.” 

Akechi grumbles something that vaguely resembles a positive response. “Please yourself. Don’t go out of your way on my account.”

* * * * *

When the coffee's finished brewing, Akira brings both cups over to the small table set up in the corner of Akechi's kitchen where they wait for their drinks to cool in comfortable silence. 

"You know, when I first moved into this apartment, the whole coffee station setup was already there. I once told Shido that I occasionally enjoyed a cup, so I guess he saw it as some kind of housewarming gift or something," Akechi says, dropping a teaspoon of sugar into his cup and stirring. "He even gave me a few books with tips on how to brew the perfect cup, so I was pretty confident going into it even though I had zero experience."

Akira attempts to hide a smile behind his hand. "You fucked up, didn't you?"

"In my defence, I don't think it was entirely my fault," Akechi laughs, his hands raised in the air. "Problem was, I didn't have a coffee grinder and he only gave me coffee beans. So, yours truly improvised and attempted to turn premium coffee beans into ground coffee with a Ziploc bag, a rolling pin and a knife."

"Oh my god..." Akira's suddenly lost for words and starting to rethink all of his life choices. "Was it—Was it good?

"It was coarse. Really, really coarse." Akechi places his palms onto the table and bends forward. "Please forgive me for my coffee crimes."

Akira doesn’t know if he can, but he’s cute so he’ll try to let it slide just this once. In all honesty, he wants to try and hold onto this moment for as long as he can. He can’t remember the last time he saw Akechi looking this happy, but he knows that it can’t last. There are things that the two of them have to discuss.

"Why did you ask me to go home the other day?" Akira asks. "I just wanted to know if I had done anything wrong. Besides the whole fake dating thing obviously."

Akechi brings his cup to his lips and takes a deep breath, inhaling as much of the aroma as he possibly can, like he's attempting to commit it to memory. "It was nothing. It's not like I told any lies. I wanted to spend some time alone, I had some things to take care of, and I thought that the time apart would do us some good. After all, it's not like there's actually anything happening between us. I hope that answers your question."

"Not really," Akira responds honestly, afraid of what he knows is about to happen. "Sometimes I can't tell whether or not you're being entirely honest with me."

And just like that, the moment's over. His glimpse at what domestic life with Goro Akechi could be, gone forever. Their cups clatter when Akechi's open palm comes into contact with the surface of the table.

"So what, I'm not allowed to want to spend some time on my own now, is that it?" Akechi asks, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration. "I'd like to remind you that you are not my boyfriend, Kurusu. And even if you were, I would never let you speak to me that way. I can't believe that you of all people are calling me a liar."

"It's not that I think you're lying. It's just that sometimes it feels like you're not very open with me."

"Fine, you want me to be more open with you? Do you want to know the real reason I asked you not to come here the other day? It's because I can't stand the sight of you." Akechi stands up from the table and throws his coffee cup into the sink, white ceramic smashing into a million tiny pieces and the remains of his coffee splashing across the kitchen wall, painting the surface a pale shade of beige. "You're everywhere I turn and for whatever reason, even when you're not here, I can't get you out of my fucking mind."

"I thought that—"

"Well, guess what? As usual, you thought wrong. You might think that you can change me, or you can fix the person I once was, but that person is still me. That person is always going to be me. No matter how much I try to improve myself or try to forgive myself for every bad thing I've ever done, I just can't." Akechi grabs Akira by the shoulders and pulls him close. "I'm always going to be this way, Akira. When will you get that through your thick skull?"

Akira's never been close enough to notice Akechi's freckles before, but now that he's finally closed the distance, he doubts he'll ever be able to forget. He wonders what Akechi would do if he moved in closer still and used a finger to map out the constellations that cover his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, highlighting every single star until it's burned into memory.

"Say something," Akechi says, his breath hot against Akira's lips. "Please."

He doesn't have anything to say. What is there to say when the only person who's been on your mind since mid-June is inches away? He leans forward and lets their noses bump together in the hopes that Akechi will take the hint.

"Get out."

That wasn't what he was going for at all. "Goro, I—"

"Don't you dare—You don't get to call me that," Akechi says venomously, forcefully pushing Akira away and creating as much distance between the two of us as he possibly can. "Now, get your shit and get out of my apartment."

"Are you still coming to the palace with us tomorrow?" Akira asks, not because he wants to, but because he's the leader and he has to. 

The mug that Akira was drinking from moments earlier flies past his head and shatters when it comes into contact with the wall beside him. 

He'll take that as a maybe.

* * *

Akira looks towards the entrance of LeBlanc as Akechi lets himself inside, watching him brush fresh snow from the surface of his jacket. He runs his fingers through his unruly, windswept hair, pulls the tartan scarf from around his neck and gives his head a tiny, near unnoticeable shake, sending a small collection of snowflakes scattering across the cafe floor.

Of course, he had been here the entire time. Akira should have known that Akechi didn't trust him enough to leave him to make the final decision, but maybe he was right to feel that way.

"If you knew I was here already then why didn't you ask me to come inside before now?"

Maruki turns around to greet Akechi with a smile, his arm stretched across the back of the bench he's sitting on. "The door was unlocked, Akechi-kun. There was nothing to stop you coming inside so I just assumed that you would come in when you were ready. Now, why don't you come and have a seat with us? Your timing is perfect. There were some things that I wanted to discuss that concerned both of you."

Akira lifts Morgana from the spot next to him on the bench and drops him on top of the table, revoking his sidekick privileges just this once. If Maruki's about to blow their cover and end whatever this plan is supposed to be, they may as well keep up appearances for as long as they can.

Goro slides into the vacant spot in the booth. Akira holds out an open palm on the surface of the table and watches as Akechi weaves their fingers together. It's still almost enough to convince him that it's all real.

"What do you mean when you say it concerns both of us?"

The irritating rhythm of Maruki's fingers continuously drumming along the back of the booth finally stops for the first time tonight as he clasps his hands together and places them onto his lap. "Let me start by saying that I know that the relationship that the two of you claim to have isn't an entirely legitimate one. While it's true that the two of you both have feelings for one another, I'm aware of that fact that there was never a romantic relationship to begin with. The only reason that the two of you were even able to pull this off was thanks to the reality that I created for you," Maruki says, pausing to bring his coffee cup to his lips. "Had it not been for this reality, Akechi wouldn't be with us right now. Part of the reason I created this place was so that the two of you could have a real chance at happiness."

Morgana's eyes grow impossibly wide. "Don't tell me that means—"

Akira covers Morgana's mouth with his free hand. Whatever Morgana's about to say, he doesn't need to hear it.

"I didn't want to be the person to tell you this, Kurusu-kun. Something about it felt wrong, like I was using him as some kind of pawn, but I can assure you that that's not the case at all," Maruki says, reaching across the table to peel Akira's hand away from Morgana's face. "You deserve happiness, both of you do, and this reality is where you can find that and so much more."

Akechi clears his throat and tightens his grip on Akira's hand. The room has fallen into a silence so deafening that Akira's sure he can hear leather squeak as he Akechi's fingers flex around his own. "You may not want it to seem like you're using me as a pawn, but from where I'm standing, that's certainly what it feels like," he says solemnly. "However, I'm not about to let you use me as bait. We're going to follow through with this plan regardless. Our decision remains unchanged. Right, Akira?"

Why won't he let go of his hand?

Why start calling him by his first name now?

Just like that, he's stuck in the middle all over again. He can hear them arguing, see their lips moving, but his brain refuses to take in the reality of what's actually happening around him. 

Akira guesses that the arguments over when Maruki shuffles to the end of the bench and exits the booth entirely. "I think I should leave now," he announces as he shrugs his jacket back on, "because while I feel like there may still be more for us to discuss, I don't think it's really fair for me to ask you for an answer right now. You seem very overwhelmed at the moment."

"Why wouldn't he be overwhelmed?" Akechi asks, rubbing his temple with a vacant hand. "You literally just told him that I'm dead. Give him the damn card, Akira."

Oh, that's right. The entire purpose of tonight was to deliver the calling card to Maruki and lock in their decision. The more time progresses, the more Akira understands why Akechi didn't trust him enough to do the job himself. It's funny how he's spent the past few weeks finally convinced that he was making the right decision, but now the calling card feels like a tonne weird sitting in his lap, too hot to touch as it burns its way through his thighs.

Akira guesses that he's taking too long when Akechi lets go of his hand and reaches underneath the table, grabbing the calling card and throwing it across the table in Maruki's general direction. He can't help but wonder if it was as easy as Akechi made it look or if he could feel the heat of the card through the gloves too.

"Huh, so this is what it looks like… A real Phantom Thieves calling card in the flesh. I hear you loud and clear, gentleman." Maruki nods and turns towards the door. "I'm a man of my word. I'll be waiting for you both in the palace. If you decide to take up my offer, then you can stay here. Go to bed tomorrow night and everything will be as it should be the following morning. I hope you both have a pleasant evening."

Morgana jumps down from his spot at the table, his paws making four tiny thumps as they come into contact with the cafe floor. "Akechi! Ask him to hold the door. Don't worry, I'm not going to follow him or anything. I've got a funny feeling that the two of you are gonna need some space. I'll spend the night with Futaba and Boss." 

Akechi does what's asked and follows them both to the door, locking it behind them and making sure that the sign is flipped to closed. 

"You knew all along, didn't you?"

A drawn-out sigh escapes Akechi's lips as walks behind the bar. He pulls out two clean cups and fills them with the last of what is leftover from today's service, stopping by the fridge to top his own cup up with milk before taking both cups back to the booth. "Please do not let what he said sway your decision," he says, sliding onto the bench and placing his hand back into Akira's like it's the right thing to do and not just part of Akira's shitty plan that's falling to pieces around them. "I thought we were both in agreement that accepting his reality was the wrong thing to do."

"You knew from the start that if we turned down his offer, you'd die," Akira says, unable to take his eyes off of Akechi's thumb as it repeatedly traces the skin on the side of his hand. "You let me go along with this stupid idea knowing that this was going to happen."

"So what if I did? This is my decision to make, not yours. Please don't let something as trivial as my life throw a spanner into the works. You and I both know that this is the only way. Please, tell me that you haven't let him change your mind."

"Akechi. I—"

"We don't have time for excuses, Akira. Tell me."

What's the point in even asking when it's clear that he doesn't have a choice anymore?

Akira pulls his hand free from Akechi's grasp and places it back onto his own lap. He's afraid to touch something that could disappear at any moment, something that never really belonged to him. "You're right," he says, his voice expressionless. "If there's really no other way then I guess we have to go through with it."

"You're doing the right thing, you know…" Akechi's words trail off as he brings his cup to his lips, his face screwing up in response to what Akira already knows is rancid coffee. "Why does it taste like that?"

Akira can't help but smile. "The cafe closed like four hours ago. That stuff's been in the syphon all afternoon."

And so they talk, spending what feels like hours discussing the same things over and over again until they're both exhausted and unsure of what else there is to say. 

"I should go," Akechi says. He yawns, but Akira knows that it's all for show. He's never seen Akechi yawn before, so it's probably just an excuse to leave. "We both have a big day ahead of us tomorrow. Please get some rest, Akira."

Akechi leaves the booth and pats his pockets, checking that he hasn't left anything behind before heading for the door. 

"Wait!" Akira calls after him, jumping over their table and grabbing Akechi's wrist before he can go any further. "Why don't you stay here tonight?"

"Akira…" Akechi whispers, barely making a sound. He catches his reflection in Akira's glasses, his gaze darting between eyes and lips, unsure of what someone actually does in these situations. "Please don't turn this into something it's not."

"I'm not."

"You're only going to make this all harder than it has to be. We shouldn't…" 

His actions say otherwise, his arm wrapping around Akira's waist till there's a hand pressing against his lower back, pushing them closer and closer together until there's nothing left between them.

"I think—" Akira presses his hips forward and buries his face in the vacant space between Akechi's collar and neck "—that you should do something for yourself for once. Please."

"Akira… We really can't. I…"

There's not any way to determine who closes the distance first, but Akira's reasonably sure that the decision is a mutual one.

* * *

They begin their final mission with a victory lap of the palace, not because anyone particularly wants to, but because it's what they always do. It should feel normal, like a routine he's run through a thousand times before, but it's not. He can't hear the blood rushing in his ears and his hearts not hammering in his chest. Instead, he's using every bit of energy he's got to put on a brave face and push through to an ending that he doesn't even want to reach. 

"Well then," Yosuke says, leaving his spot at the table and walking towards the safe room exit. "I believe that we've prepared as much as we possibly can. Shall we proceed?"

Everyone nods and begins to filter towards the exit and what they know is probably going to be the end of everything. 

"Akira and I will catch up with you," Akechi announces. "I'd like to speak with him in private for a moment."

The remaining Thieves look unsure at first, but they eventually clear out, agreeing to wait outside whilst Akechi says what he has to say. 

"You wanted to talk to me?" Akira asks, unsure if he can even look Akechi in the eyes.

Akechi reaches out and runs a clawed finger across the surface of Akira's mask, tracing the jagged black pattern that surrounds both of his eyes. Akira knows that he should probably be more resistant to the idea of sharp objects close to his eyes, but he doesn't even flinch. He knows he's safe. 

"I know that I'm probably the last person that you want to talk to at the moment, but I just wanted to check-in and see how you're holding up," Akechi says, his hand falling from Akira's mask to slide along the curve of his face until he's cradling his cheek.

"I think I'm okay," Akira responds. He's clearly lying, but he's not about to throw his burdens onto Akechi. He's dealing with enough already.

Akechi smirks and leans forward, brushing the edge of his mask against Akira's nose. "Liar. I hope that you don't think I'm being selfish, or presumptuous for that matter, but—" Akechi reaches out and grabs Akira's hand and places it onto his hip. "—you can touch me if you want to. In fact, I would appreciate it if you did."

Akira wonders how long they could get away with this, wonders how long Maruki would let them hide out in a safe room metres away from their end goal. He'd stay here forever if he could make himself forget everyone waiting outside of the safe room.

"Guys…" Futaba's head peaks in through a tiny opening she's created in the entrance. "I hope you aren't doing anything impure in here!"

"You can open your eyes, Sakura."

Akira's surprised when Akechi doesn't pull away when Futaba takes that as her opportunity to come back into the room. It's nice that he's making an effort to humour him right until the very end.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I think we're running out of time. I just got a spike in readings from the area we think the treasure's going to spawn," Futaba says. "We should probably get going."

Akira squeezes that hand that's still attached to Akechi's hip, hoping that he'll remember the feeling once everything is over. 

They begrudgingly pull apart and walk towards the door.

* * *

And just like that, it's all over. He ends his year in Tokyo feeling the same way he had when it began, alone. His eyes close as he lets his head fall back against his headrest, hoping that he'll be able to sleep for the duration of the journey. At least that way, he won't have to worry about other passengers or a constant barrage of unwanted thoughts of wanting to stay in Tokyo instead of going back to a home where no one wants him.

He ignores the feeling of his phone vibrating in his pocket. He already knows that it's going to be someone that he can't face speaking to, not right now. They all mean well, but they have no idea what they're doing to him or how much harder they are making everything. 

Five minutes pass and it buzzes again. It seems as though no one is able to take a hint. He made a point of seeing everyone before he left for this exact reason. He didn't need a visual reminder of everything he was about to leave behind. He didn't want any of this to happen.

The next message comes in much sooner, a minute later at the most. Akira swears under his breath and pulls his phone out of his pocket to turn it off. What if he just threw his cell phone in the trash, or took out the SIM card and smashed it into a thousand tiny pieces? Would they give up then? Would they let him remove himself from their lives?

_ You have 3 new message(s) from:  _ **_UNKNOWN_ **

He's taken a look at the screen now, so he may as well check. It's not that he particularly wants to know who's texting him or what's going on, but what harm could a few more texts do when he's already feeling as low as he does now.

**_UNKNOWN_ ** _ : Hello. _

**_UNKNOWN_ ** _ : I've come all this way. The least you could do is read my messages or acknowledge my existence. You haven't even noticed that I'm here, have you? _

**_UNKNOWN_ ** _ : You know, I always think it's kind of weird when two people who are clearly really, really into each other try and sit on opposite sides of the room or whatever, just to try and prove that they're not always all over one another or totally head over heels in love. _

Akira feels something press against his shin as he reads the last text for the fifth time, words on the screen becoming increasingly blurry with every subsequent read. He glances away from his phone, watching under the table as the toe of a black dress shoe trails up the inner seam of his jeans, stopping to rest once it reaches his knee.

He can't take it anymore. Can't handle the almost overwhelming sense of dread that's bubbling somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach. As real as all of this seems, he doesn't think he's ready to see his face again. Having him back would mean having the only thing he's ever truly wanted dangled right in front of this face, inches away from him, only to have it snatched away all over again. 

If he can't see him, then he can't be real, so he looks out the window and he ignores it. He ignores the messages. He ignores his cell phone vibrating again and again and again against his thigh. He ignores the sliver of patent leather that he catches in the corner of his eye as it slowly retreats from his leg and goes back to wherever it came from.

What he can't ignore is the familiar sensation of a body pressed against his side, the same aroma of vanilla and sandalwood aftershave and cigarettes that he'll never admit to smoking that's been on his mind from the first day they met, the hand that lands on his thigh and slides down to rest on his knee.

For someone who hates public displays of affection, he's doing an awful job of showing it. When Akira finally gives in to temptation and forces his head to turn around, he's already closing the distance between them. Whilst one gloved hand squeezes Akira's knee, the other trails up the length of his body, fingers eventually stopping to twist in the soft hair that rests against the nape of Akira's neck. Akira's putty in his hands; there's no resistance when he pulls his head towards his own and presses their foreheads together.

"Perhaps weird was the wrong word, but I can't really describe it," Akechi says, breath warm against Akira's dry, chapped lips. "I just think the two of us are really, _really_ cute."

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!
> 
> a fic written as part of a secret santa exchange with some friends.  
> title is shamelessly stolen from [the song of the same name](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3G9XsntCrb4&ab_channel=BiffyClyro) that gives me big 3rd sem shuake vibes.
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ethyxxx)   
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